My Saving Grace
by eixid
Summary: Christmas Two-Shot: Late one night, Warren Worthington receives a visitor. Is she in need of an Angel, or is an Angel in need of her?
1. I

Warren rubbed his eyes.  

The moonlight filtered into his bedroom, illuminating things just enough to make out pale blue silhouettes surrounding the furniture.  The buzzing continued, and Angel wondered why his alarm clock was going off at two in the morning.

His wings stretched out as he reached to the nightstand and hit the snooze button, hoping to go back to sleep.  He hit the button again, and again, then slammed his fist onto the clock but the buzzing continued.

As he became more coherent Warren released that this particular buzzing wasn't his alarm, but rather the buzzer to the gate of his home.  Getting up, clad in only pajama bottoms, he padded downstairs, past the art viewing hall, and into the main entranceway of his home.

He turned on the monitor to the security camera.  Now nearly fully awake, his annoyance began to rise.  What was someone doing at his main gate at 2am?  The monitor finally warmed up, reveling the black and white image of his visitor.

It was her.

What was she doing here, and at this hour?  "Yes?"  He asked into the microphone, rubbing his eyes to get a better look at the woman in the monitor.

She looked over at the speaker.  Warren just stared at her, watching as she brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes as the snow laden wind whipped into the car she was driving.  "Warren."  She spoke his name, and instantly he could detect something in her voice.  "I need to come in."

"Of course."  Warren said.  He buzzed the gate open, and watched as she drove through the iron swinging arms.  Her voice disturbed him, she sounded unsure, and perhaps even a little scared.  He had never heard her like that.  He grabbed his robe, the one he had cut two vertical slits down the back which allowed his wings to remain unconfined.  He tied it crudely closed and walked to the entranceway of his home.

He opened the door as she got out of her car, and was greeted by a strong gust of upstate New York winter weather.  The light behind him poured out into the darkness of the night, causing his winged shadow to be projected out across the lawn.  For once, Warren didn't care if some onlooker peeking over the fence surrounding his home saw his wings; he wanted to be there for her.

The snow crunched under her feet and she hurried into the house, cold wind whipping her hair around her face.  Warren looked out into the darkness as she entered, at the snow blowing across the distance.  If the storm got any worse he doubted the roads would remain open much longer.

"Sorry, I woke you up didn't I?"  She asked, not looking at him as she untied her long overcoat.

"Not a problem."  He reassured her, helping the coat off her shoulders and placing it on a chair by the closet at the entranceway.

She looked at him, into his eyes, for a brief moment before casting her own back to the ground.  She saw her shoes and pulled her leg up so she could remove them.  "Can I have something to drink?"  She asked, sliding off her snow-soaked shoes and unwrapping the scarf from around her neck.

"What do you want?"  Warren asked, passing her and waiting for her to follow him into his living room.  "Water, soda, juice…"

"Something a little stronger."  She said with a fake chuckle, walking in behind him and taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs.  She looked at his Christmas tree; the multicolored lights gave her a warm feeling.  She inhaled through her nose, smelling the distinct aroma only a natural tree could give off.  She looked over at the fireplace, and a single stocking hanging down.  "Into the holiday spirit?"

Warren Looked over at the tree as he pulled out a pair of glasses and poured some brandy in them.  "It's like a disease."  He joked.  "Just doesn't feel right unless I have a tree up."

She noticed the sad expression cross his face as he looked at the lone stocking hanging from the mantel.  "Even all alone in this house?"  She asked.

"Especially all alone in this house."  He picked up the glasses after sitting the decanter back into the liquor cabinet.

He looked at her sitting in his chair as he crossed the room.  God she was radiant.  Their was what? Five? Six years separating them?  Was it more?  How would the others at the mansion handle their age difference if they found out, did he care?  He shook the thoughts out of his head.

He handed her the glass, which she grasp in both her palms.  "What's the matter?"  He asked, tacking a seat in the leather chair next to her.

"I just didn't want to be there tonight."  She sipped the liquid and looked at him.  "I just wanted to see you."  She looked away from him, staring at the still smoldering log in the fireplace.

"So you drove up here at two in the morning?"  He asked, ignoring his own drink and leaning forward, trying to look into her eyes to find the true problem.

"Sorry."  She apologized, sipping her drink and looking down at her feet.

"You know you're always welcome here."  He never meant anything more than those few words in his life.  "Its been awhile though."

"Yes it has."  She twirled a finger around the rim of the glass.  "I'm sorry."  She shook her head, setting the half emptied drink onto the table by the chair.  "I should go.  I shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"  He asked, not flinching as she stood up.  She didn't move, just stood there watching him.  He looked up at her; her face was chapped, apparently by the cold stinging winds outside.  Her hair was out of place and slightly damp from the show which had melted in the heat of the house.  "Come on."  He said, standing up and casually walking out of the room.  

"What… where?"  She asked, following him to the door but going no further.

"Trust me."  He said, taking her hand.  "Just come on."

He gently tugged her.  It was barely a pull, just enough to move her arm, and her body followed.  A part of her wanted to leave, another part was busy chiding herself for coming here in the first place, but she followed him, watching the wings on his back sway as he guided her path.

Warren led her upstairs and opened a door reveling a bathroom.  She looked inside at the cream and black marble interior.

"Go and take a shower.  You'll catch a cold like that."  He smiled at her.  "I'll go get you a towel and something clean and dry to put on."  He felt the slightly damp material on her soldiers.

She smiled.  Trying to remember if she told him how long hot showers were probably the most relaxing thing in the world to her.  He left her, walking down the hall and disappearing around a corner.  She stepped into the bathroom.

~~~~

She let the hot water pour over her, matting her hair to her back and trickling down her length to the drain below.  The shower was huge, bigger than her entire girl's bathroom back at the institute.  Well, it had to be, she thought, imagining Warren trying to cramp his wings in a normal shower stall.

Their was a knock at the door, and she cracked open the smoked glass door to the stall to look out.  "Yes?"

The door creaked open about a foot.  "Look through these."  He said politely.  She noticed he didn't step inside the steam filled bathroom, just reached his arm in and sat the stack of items onto the counter.

"Thank you."  She smiled, thinking how timid he was.  It was a welcomed reprieve from the abruptness of the Institute.  Everyone was in such a hurry there; hardly a day went by without someone complaining about someone hogging the shower, or being barged in on.

He didn't respond; just quietly shut the door as his arm pulled back out.  

 She closed her eyes and stood with her face in the stream of water.  It bounced over her forehead, eyelids, and the bridge of her nose; seemingly carrying away all the tension with the water.  This was her castle.  Her safe haven away from everything.  She finally turned off the hot water.  She wondered what kind of water heater he had; the one at the institute would give you ten minutes at the most.

She reached for the towel on the counter and patted herself dry as she stepped out of the stall.  As she stepped out of the marble shower she looked at the stack of clothes on the counter.

He had brought her an armload of clothes.  She dug through the pile, finally selecting what must have been one of his tank-top undershirts, it had to be his, considering that their were two slits cut along the back, and a pair of gym shorts that fell to below her knees.

Wiping the condensation away with her bare hand she looked at herself in the mirror.  Not exactly the most flattering image of herself.  The tank-top was fine, but with the long shorts, un-preened hair, and no makeup it was hardly the image she, or anyone at the Institute for that matter, was used to.  On the other hand, se didn't feel the need to be perfect here.  She wasn't at the Institute, she was at Warren's, and she didn't have to be the same person here.

She removed a tan bathrobe from a hook and rubbed the soft Egyptian cotton against her face.  It smelled like him.  She put it on, and instantly never wanted to take it off.  As she stepped out of the bathroom she drew the soft material tighter around her, trying as much as she could to bury herself in it.

She walked down the hall in the direction he had disappeared.  Numerous small paintings hung; most she couldn't recognize but was amazed at their beauty nonetheless.  

She came to an open set of double doors, and saw the winged figure standing before an open armoire next to a large bed that made her king-sized look like a single.  The moonlight drifted into the room, causing his stark-white wings to take on a bluish tint in the darkness.  She knocked lightly on the open doorframe and entered the room.

He watched her come in, damp hair falling down around her.  "Sorry."  He apologized as he noticed her shiver; he shut the door to the piece of furniture and came around to the foot of the bed.  "This old house gets drafty in the winter."

She looked at the pieces of art hanging over his headboard and the Bombay doors that opened out into the snow-covered garden as she walked into the room.  "It is a beautiful home."

He didn't like seeing her like this.  She was always so strong, always one of the major members of the team that the others looked to in times of need to keep their focus.  

"Come here."  He said, taking a seat on the foot of his bed and motioning for her to sit beside him.  "What's bothering you?"

She crossed the room, slightly faster than normal due to the fact that her bare feet were on the cold hardwood floor.  "I just don't want to be alone."  She said taking a seat next to him.  "I'm alone back at the institute; I came here so I wouldn't be."

"And?"  He asked, not buying it.

She looked at her feet as she put one on top of the other to warm it up.  His feet were bare, and she wondered how he could not be bothered by the cold.  "I feel like everything I do is for the X-men.  That my whole purpose is them, that I'm nothing without them."

"You can't honestly believe that?"  He asked.  "What about your family?  Christmas is just around the corner.  Don't you realize how lucky you are?"

"Family…"  She smiled, but the wistful look in her eyes gave her away.  "Not anymore."

Warren sighed.  "The X-Men don't determine who you are."  He said, reaching down and taking her hand which rested on her lap in his.  "You determine what the X-Men are."  

"It's just…"  She looked down at her hand in his, and gently closed her fingers around it.  "I can't relax around them, I feel like I have this responsibility to always be ready for anything when I'm there."

"They all look up to you."  Warren admitted.  "You mean a lot to them whether you know it or not."

"I know… it's just."  She took a deep breath and released it slowly.  "I just want to be able to relax, to sit down and do nothing for a day.  Every once and a while I don't want to think about a problem Scott or Kurt has.  I want to walk to the kitchen for a snack and not have to worry about bumping into the Professor and getting an assignment when I already have plans."  She sighed; it seemed horrible when she said it aloud.  "You must think I hate them."

"No, not in the least."  Warren comforted, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of support.  "Everyone has to get away now and them.  You deserve a vacation more than anyone I know."  He smiled.  "Stay here for the night.  Think of it as a private bed and breakfast."  He said, his voice purposely lifting in an effort to cheer her up

"I can't…"  She looked up at him.  "I have things to do at the institute in the morning."  She stammered, suddenly trying to remember all her responsibilities to the team.  "They'll wonder why I'm not there."

"Then let them wonder."  Warren told her.  "When you do decide to go back you tell them I wasn't going to let you drive back this late at night and I let you sleep here."  He looked out the Bombay doors at the snow whipping by.  "Just tell them the weather was too bad."

"Warren…"  She started to protest, but he silenced her.

"You're staying."

She sat there, just looking at his face, and the kindness in his eyes.    

"Get a good nights rest."  He told her, lifting her hand up and placing a quick peck on top.  "We'll talk in the morning."

"Where are you going?"  She asked.

"The guest room."  He told her, standing up for the edge of the bed.

"Please…"  She didn't let go oh his hand.  "Stay in here."  She was embarrassed.  "With me."

Warren removed his housecoat and got into the right side of the bed.  He laid on his side, facing the empty half with his wings taking up the other end of the mattress.

She took off the bathrobe and shivered in the cool air.  She noticed Warren looking at her with the white tank-top on; of course he quickly looked away.   She wanted to laugh, to tell him that she didn't mind him looking at her.  Truth was, it made her feel special.  She got under the covers, laying her head on his outsetreached arm, feeling the heat of his skin through her hair against her face.

She looked into his blue eyes and drew herself closer to the heat coming off his bare chest as she shivered from the night air.  One of Warren's wings came around and laid itself over her.

"Thanks."  She said, the wing shielding her from the draft of the old house.

"Good night."  He said to her, pecking her on the forehead and taking one last look at her face before closing his eyes.

"Warren?"  She asked, and he lightly breathed a 'huh' I response without opening his eyes.  "Thank you."

Neither said anything else as they both drifted off to sleep.

Who is the woman?

Well, I want you to tell me.  

I know who she is, but I want to hear who you think she is.  I left a few small clues, but none that I think will completely rule out any member of the institute.  This may help (or I could just be throwing it in to confuse you) I don't know how old Warren is supposed to be in Evo, but I figure mid twenties sounds about right so you can figure that he's around 25.  Happy hunting!  

I originally intended this as a one-shot, but decided to split it and make a two-shot out of it.  So, in about a month or so, I'll write an epilog where the mystery woman is revealed.  Who knows, it might turn into a story.  Right now, it's just a nice little Holiday story.

Anyway review, if anything just put in who you think she is.


	2. II

Well, one reviewer got it right, read on to find out her identity.

She stretched under the covers, feeling the soft sheets slide around her legs.  The cool air danced around her exposed face, and she buried it up to her eyes in the sheets.  She slid an arm out, searching for the warmth she had clung to for the majority of the night, but only found empty sheets surrounding her.

Was it a dream, had she just dreamed actually going to him again?  No, she had done it last night, the smell of his home, the feeling she got when he looked at her was never fully reproduced like that in her dreams.

Besides, this bed was much softer than her own back at the Xavier Institute.  Still, the questioned remained, where was he?  She cracked an eye open and confirmed her suspicion.  His pillow was empty, pressed down in the middle where his head had laid the night before.

She stared at a white feather which lay at the bed's corner, slightly rocking back and forth as it was caressed by an invisible draft.    

The door to the room slowly opened.  She just stared at him through her cracked eyes.  He smiled at her, her silence not being confused with sleep, and indicated the sterling silver tray he was carrying.

"You're bringing me breakfast in bed?"  She asked, bunching the covers tighter around her and sitting up as she wiped her eyes to hopefully awake faster.

"Yes I am."  He replied, playfully mocking a hurt tone.  "You asked that like I had a third eye growing out of my forehead."

"Sorry, just not used to this treatment."  She took a steaming cup of coffee off the tray and held the warm mug between her hands.  "Thank you Warren."  She looked at the plate, a simple omelet folded is half, a few slices of tomato.

He sat the tray across her lap and climbed into the bed next to her, wings fanning out to each side so he could recline, and removed his own cup of coffee from the tray.  "What happened with your family?"

"What?"  She placed a forkful of eggs in her mouth, sighing as they melted.  Nothing at the Institute was ever this good.

"Last night."  He paused and took a sip out of his own mug.  "You mentioned them."

"They trusted me with something precious and I let them down."  She suddenly became very interested in her plate, not wanting to look at him.

"What did they say?"  Warren encouraged her to proceed.

She looked down at her plate, nervously picking at her food with the fork.  "I haven't really talked to them after he left."

"Call them."  He covered her hand which still held the fork with his.  "Call them, tell them how you feel.  Better them to hear it from you than to speculate."  He smiled rubbing his thumb up and down her knuckles.

Why did he have to always say the right things at the right times?

"Do you feel better?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and smiled.  "A lot."  She eased over in the bed and hugged him, closing her eyes as his arms wrapped around her.  "Thank you Warren."

"But not completely better?"  He asked, his face buried in her hair.

"Not completely."  She breathed into his housecoat, and inhaled his scent which she had forgotten over the course of the night.

"Come on."  Warren stood out from her grasp and up from the bed, walking to a small vertical CD player in his armoire.

"What are you doing?"  She asked, and without thinking uncovered herself from the sheets and quickly wrapping herself in the soft bathrobe she had donned the night before.

He returned to the edge of the bed as the sounds of a gentle keyboard filled the room.  "I'm asking you to dance."  He held his hand out to her.

She almost giggled.  "Certainty good sir."  She took his hand and they walked out to an open part of the bedroom's floor.

_Christmas is the time of year,  
For being with the one's we love.  
Sharing so much joy and cheer,  
What a wonderful feelin.  
Watching the one's we love,  
Having so much fun.  
  
_

"I love this song."  She whispered into his chest.  What had started out as formal dancing quickly evolved into a swaying hug.

_  
I was sittin by the fire side,  
Taking a walk through the snow.  
Listening to a children's choir,  
Singing songs about Jesus,  
The blessed way that he came to us.  
Why can't it remain,  
All through the year,  
Each day the same.  
Heyeah, that's what I wanna hear,  
Heh heh, It's truly amazin,  
That spirit of Christmas.  
  
_

Warren kissed the top of her head.  "I've often wondered if he's a mutant."

_  
All the kin folk gather round,  
The lovely Christmas tree.  
Hearts are glowing full of joy,  
Sense the gifts that we're giving,  
And the love that we're living.  
Why can't it remain,  
Ohhh all through the year,  
Each day the same.  
Heyeah, that's what I wanna hear,  
I'll tell ya, It's truly amazin,  
That spirit of Christmas.  
  
_

"Who?"  She removed her head from his chest and looked up at him.  "Ray Charles?"

_  
Let me hear ya.  
Why can't it remain,  
All through the year,  
Each day the same.  
That's what I wanna hear,  
Listen to me, It's truly amazin,  
That spirit of Christmas.  
Ohhh It's truly amazin,  
That spirit of Christmas.  
Ain't it so, It's truly amazing,  
Yeah, that spirit of Christmas.  
Oh Christmas,  
Oh Christmas._

The song faded, replaced by a soft Bing Crosby melody.  "Any person, much less a blind one, who can play the piano and sing like him is getting some extra help from something."

She laughed.  "Well, that's another one of life's mysteries solved."

They just stood there, although they had stopped dancing, and looked at each other, the Angel and the Witch.

"You should let your hair grow out longer…"  She reached up and ran her fingers through his medium length hair blond, pulling it out of its styled place.  "It'd suit you."

"Fashion tips?"  He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled and shrugged.  "Just being honest."

Warren looked out over the top of her head through Bombay doors of his bead room.  Fresh snow covered everything, like a white sea washing up against his home.  "Weather's allot better this morning."  He remarked to her, the rays of sunshine reflecting off the crystals of the snow.

She smiled back and looked up at him.  "With good reason."

They milled around his house for another hour.  Talking about various subjects, doing various things around the house, she even helping him wrap presents to mail off to his parents in London.  Although she didn't think about it, it was truly amazing how at home she felt.

She didn't think about the Institute, the problems in her life, she just felt… content.  The morning slowly wore on, until she felt it necessary to gather her things and return.

They trudged out of the warm house and into his driveway, their feet leaving a pair of close footprints in the fresh snow; Warren walked ahead and opened the car door for her.  "Don't take so long this time to come back and visit."

She got into the cold car, coat wrapped tightly around her.  "This is the second time I've been here to visit you."  She looked at him with a smile, letting him know that her stern tone was hollow.  "It wouldn't kill you to come to the Institute once in a while."

He chuckled.  "What are you doing Christmas eve?"

"Staying at the institute I suppose."  She put her key in the ignition, but let her fingers nervously fidget on it without cranking the car.

"I'll be here…"  He bent his knees and crouched down to her level.  "In this big house…"  He moved a little closer.  "All alone…"

They both moved in at the same time.  Lips connecting with a spark of electricity that traveled down the length of their bodies and back up again.  By all accounts it was a simple, innocent, slightly more than a peck on the lips.  But it left both of them stunned.  

She smiled at him again, something she seemed to do allot when he was around, her blue eyes looking into his.  "We'll see Warren."

"Good."  He rubbed her hand on the steering wheel before letting go and standing back up.  "I'll be up, trying to catch a certain someone coming down my chimney."

"Warren…"  She laughed.  "You can't honestly still believe in Santa."

"Who said anything about Santa, I was talking about a certain Cajun who has recently been spending more and more time at Xavier's place."  He sighed.  "And occasionally coming here to graciously point out flaws in my security system."

"Remy would never…"  She caught herself.  "Okay, perhaps Remy would."

"Good by."  He smiled, stepping back from her car.  "And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too."  She said as he gently shut her car door.  

Warren watched as she dove away.  He knew she would return.  Her presence was really the only thing he wanted this Christmas.  

Sighing, he walked back into the house.  He only had a few days to prepare for Christmas Eve, and he still had to find the bear-trap to place in the bottom of the fireplace.

~~~~

She watched the various houses as she drove home.  Children out playing in the fresh snow, a family putting another strand of lights on their roof.  She couldn't help but stare at the winged Angel fountain in the middle of the Institute's grounds as she entered the Mansion's drive.  

Logan, clad in a pair of gray overalls looked out from under the X-Van as she pulled in.  Watching as the familiar pair of legs stepped out of the car.

"Where you been?"  He asked, turning back up to the stubborn bolt he had been trying to remove from the transmission casing for the better part of fifteen minutes.

"Out, at a friend's house."  She replied and looked down at him, or rather his feet which were the only part of his body sticking out from under the van.

He grumbled.  "Damn bolt…"  Suddenly she heard a ~Skint~ and watched as the severed bolt-head rolled out from under the van and down around his feet.  "You didn't see that."

"See what?"  She asked, trying not to laugh.

"Exactly."

She turned to leave the garage, her feet tapping against the concrete floor.

Logan called after her.  "Hey Ro?"

Ororo Monroe turned, and brushed several strands of white hair out from around her blue eyes.  "Yes Logan?"

He rolled out from under the van, face smudged with streaks of grime.  "You okay?"  He asked as he pulled a grease-rag from the pocket of the coveralls and began wiping his hands.  "Something's been bothering you lately."

"I'm fine Logan."  She thought for a moment.  "Just looking forward to Christmas Eve."

The song is "That Spirit of Christmas" and is by Ray Charles, of course.

The reference to Remy breaking into Warren's house is from my other fic "Here's to the Good Life".  I didn't want to mention that they were both interconnected earlier because that would have ruled out several possibilities as to the mystery woman's identity.  Besides, the possibility of Remy breaking into Warren's house Christmas night through the chimney was something I couldn't resist; it screams "the Grinch".

The part with Ororo mentioning her family was about Evan.  I figured she would have blamed herself for his retreat to the sewers.  And, while I don't think they would have completely burned the bridge, the friendship with Evan's parents would have certainty been on shaky ground following his disappearance.

M.B. Wade, Thief of Shadows, Gub-Man, Dark Ballerina, Southern Sass:  Not Rogue, sorry.  Big clue there, I mentioned that they were holding hands with several other mentions of touch, including a kiss.

ShnazzySpazzy, Pixie Flyer, CP Baker 12, The Rogue Witch, Avenging Kitty:  Good guess with Jean, I guess the main clue there was that Warren let her drink and she didn't say anything about being underage.  Jean doesn't seem like the type of person who wouldn't at least think something about it.

Remys Gal, Sky Flyer:  Sorry, but Psylocke isn't in the Evo-verse.  Here's hoping for season 5 though.

Rogue Star 1:  Geese, you probably should get a job at a criminal research center.  Of course, you know I love reading you 'Research Paper' reviews.  The part with Ororo being cold came to me as this:  most people are depressed when the weather's nasty; the weather gets nasty when Ororo is depressed.  Kind of like that one chick in "Men in Black 2".  Other than that your analysis was superb, scary to have someone thinking so close to the way I do.  Extremely scary…

AND THE WINNER IS:  TODD FAN

Hope you all had fun reading my first attempt at a holiday story, and I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!


End file.
